
I closed the tablet before I asked. It wasn't a question in the rules, and I was the one waiting for an answer.
Which clause is that question under? There must be a revision I haven't seen.
I didn't write that part down.
Every night I sit before the grate. The tablet is more honest than my own hand.

I closed the tablet before I asked. It wasn't a question in the rules, and I was the one waiting for an answer.
Once, a long time ago, I wrote down the truth as a lie. That name is the only one I still remember in the tablet's exact order.
It was a night the candle burning down bothered me more than it should have. That's all it was.

Nine days now, climbing the stairs before the hourglass runs out. I've stopped looking for a reason for the fast steps.
My hand was stiff with cold and the writing slipped twice. The scribe asked if he should rewrite it. I told him to leave it.

I filed a request to view the chapel ledger. Why this month's reading was moved up ten whole days is a question the rules leave no room to ask.